Tabitha grabbed Wes by the front of his black button-up shirt and tugged him toward her. He took a large step forward, across the threshold and into her apartment. He had barely a second for the surprise to register on his face before she tugged on his shirt again, bringing his mouth flush against hers.
Her tongue teased his mouth open. His hands gripped her waist and he pulled her to him. Her breasts crushed against his chest and he moaned pitifully. She was soft and smelled sweet...like flowers; not perfume or lotion or hairspray, a subtle floral scent that could drive him out of his mind.
Wes tried to pull back, exerting what little self-control he still had. She wouldn't let him; she went up on her toes to bring their lips back together. His hands began to wander up and down her sides. His knees buckled and they sunk to the floor. Tabitha didn't seem to notice they were both on their knees; she was so involved in the touch and go of their tongues.
His hands slipped over the flimsy charcoal gray dress she wore. It was low-cut, leaving much of her cleavage exposed. The tips of his fingers brushed along the exposed skin and she winced.
The small sound made his dick hard.
Tabitha gasped when she felt it against her stomach.
Wes, brought back to reality by the sound of her surprise, pulled away. He gazed over her face; eyes shut, lush lips still parted face flush. She was gorgeous. He stood and pulled her to her feet before she had a chance to open her eyes.
"You've really got to work on your self-restraint," Tabitha whispered as she fanned herself with her hand.
"You're still fully clothed with both feet on the floor...which means my restraint is well in-hand."
"Sweet-talker!" she giggled.
"Seriously, though," Wes said adjusting his erection, "What the hell was that?"
Tabitha smiled and dropped her gaze. "It's our second date; I figured we'd get the kiss out of the way so we won't be all awkward and nervous at the end of the night."
"Well, now that we've got that out of the way," said Wes, "lets get to this party before I need an ice bath."
"Sure," Tabitha said with a wink, "I'll just get my wrap and reapply my lips...I mean lipstick."
***
"Wesley, it's been ages! I'd hoped to meet you again in more of a business capacity that social."
Wes turned toward the familiar clipped British accent and sighed. "I'm out of the business, Logan."
"Yeah, I heard," Logan said with a smirk, "but come on, Wes, you're made for this business. You see notes where the rest of us hear sounds. Just because some slag used you for your money and dropped you as soon as she made her way to someone better doesn't mean you walk away from all this." He held his hands out in a manner that reminded Wes of a picture of Jesus in his grandmother's old house. The shaggy chestnut brown hair creeping over the stiff collar of his shirt and dark blue eyes only added to the similarities. "You just have to wash off your dick and move on."
"Woah, I think I walked into this conversation at the most wrong moment possible."
Wes turned to see Tabitha's wide eyes. His face flushed. Why did Logan have to be such an ass?
"Tabitha," he said by way of introduction, "this is Logan Burke, Sickly Sweet's A&R."
Logan's grin could be described as predatory. "Pleased to meet you, my dear."
Tabitha wrinkled her nose. "You can turn down the Brit-speak. You're not impressing me any...I can't even pull off singing in the shower."
Wes snorted out a laugh and Tabitha took the final sip of her champagne.
"Allow me," said Logan taking her empty flute.
Once he was a safe distance away, Tabitha leaned against his arm. "That guy is awful full of himself," she whispered.
"He's full of other things too."
Tabitha nodded. "He looks like the slippery kind."
"What gave it away?"
Tabitha glanced through the crowd of attractive, well-dressed people making small talk. "At first it was the hair, all moussed up to look messy...then I saw those Berluti loafers—over a thousand bucks a pair—and the classic Burberry print tie...vain, yes, overcompensating, maybe. All those things would have been enough, but I think it would have to be the general air of crafty, uselessness about him."
"Smart and beautiful," Wes whispered into her hair. "Unbelievable."
Tabitha giggled, but straightened when Logan approached with a fresh glass of champagne. "Thank you," she said forcing a smile. "Please excuse me, I actually see someone I know!"
The two men watched her walk away in reverent silence until Logan spoke.
"I see you've got the moving on part done."
Wes was suddenly bored. "Uh-huh."
"She's a looker, eh? Tell me, are those knockers real?"
Wes rolled his shoulders...bored was quickly turning into angry. "Don't," he growled...a warning.
"It's an honest question, mate. I mean, if they are real, you're one lucky S.O.B.; it's not ever day you come across a pair that fine that haven't been in a surgeon's hands at some point."
"Fuck off, Logan. Don't talk about my..." The sentence died on his tongue. What was she, exactly? Two dates didn't constitute a girlfriend, but she was something...something special. "Just watch your mouth."
Wes didn't give Logan a chance to respond. He turned on a heel and walked in the opposite direction.
***
